You'll Save Me
by Gentleman Ziggles
Summary: Sometimes, mediguns can't heal all wounds


Sometimes based on actual in game events! :'D ... I am medic-centric... :c

Inspiration from the song: _The Doctor's Wife_, by The Clockwork Quartet.

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Monday, the twenty sixth of March:

The patient's seizures are becoming more notable each day. To the best of my judgement, it all seems to stem from decay. If I don't fix him soon, it'll be the end of him. I'm sure of it. But I'll save him. I must save him. I need to. I'll never forget when we first fought together. He looked at me, and he smiled. Glowing from the alarm's light. His eyes seemed the brightest I can remember that day. And the low rumble of his voice was soothing against that of the Administrator's. _"Don't let me die, doctor. It's just you and me out there. No one else matters."_

Tuesday, the seventeenth of May:

He's been in this slowly worsening condition for at least a month now, give or take a few days. And nothing I've tried so far, has notably improved his condition. The Administrator has called in a replacement for him, deciding that he isn't worth her precious time, like I've decided he is. I miss the sound of his voice. It started going about a week ago, and all that he's left with are small wheezes, gurgling sounds, and other incomprehensible noises. As endearing and beautiful as they are to hear from dying enemy combatants, it fills me with an indescribable dread when it comes from him.

The illness is getting worse, and the team is telling me to just give up. I can't do that. He's barely moving, and if it wasn't for the heart monitor, then I'd second guess myself, and think he's dead. But I won't. I'll never do that. I need to find him a cure. I'll stop at nothing. And when he gets better, we can talk like we use to. He can laugh, with that beautiful voice of his like he use to. Like on the day we blew up the enemy's base. We held onto each other, and watched the explosions - it was like watching fireworks. And he laughed. I wish at the time I had listened to it more carefully.

I must be growing mad, I could have sworn he said, _"Don't let me die, doctor."_

Sunday, the twenty third of June:

He's not dead. He's not dead. He can't be. He's not. He won't respond to any stimuli, but he's not dead. He can't be - I won't allow it. The Administrator has hired a new medic, apparently she's fed up with my constant care of a dead man. Well that's fine with me. It leaves me more time to devote to him. I try to talk to him when I feed him, even though I know he won't respond. I tell him what's going on inside the base when I dress him, even though he simply lies there in a state of constant sleep. And every night. Every night, I read to him. It must look odd. Especially since the only language we knew to converse in was English, and some of the stories I read aren't. Tonight I plan on telling him "Das Schlaraffenland". It's the one he always liked the most of my stories. He always listened when I told it. He must still be listening now.

The Engineer's machinery keeps telling me he's alive and stable. I don't need his tools to tell me that. His eyes. They're still filled with his jovial brightness. It's not just my imagination. Of this I'm positive. Although the heart monitor, and the slow, yet constant beeping is always reassuring to hear. Sometimes I worry it's malfunctioning, and use my stethoscope to double check. His heart is very quiet.

I think I'm getting closer to finding a cure. I just need a bit more time, and I swear I'll be able to bring him back to me. And he'll smile at me once more. How I miss his smile. The faint memory of his voice invades my mind, and replaces all my thoughts, _"Don't let me die, doctor..."_

Tuesday, the eighteenth of July:

I've decided to rip out his heart. It was the only way to save him. It barely beat now anyways. If he would like to see it when he wakes up, I've happily preserved it in a jar for him. He's been hooked up to a new machine that will preform just like a heart, and will make sure his other organs will continue their functions normally. Something which my medigun had only made worse. I've had to keep the door shut while I work here recently. The stench in the room I've been told is unbearable. I cannot blame them. His body is far from usable anymore, deteriorating as it is. But how could they turn such a cold shoulder on their own team mates? I'm so close to bringing him back to us. To me.

Although, I should keep the door barred for a while. Once they find out some of the horrendous things I've done to bring him back, I'm sure they would want nothing more than to simply murder me. I wouldn't blame them if that's what they'd do. Which is why I won't tell a soul. Not even him.

His new parts. They aren't organic like they use to be. They aren't as soft. But it's still him laying before me. His mechanical parts make his eyes stand out I think. And when he comes back to us, he'll be so grateful to me. But I have to be careful with him still. He's still not completely fixed yet.

And his voice, as weak as it is still, makes me weep, _"Don't let me die doctor..."_


End file.
